On this road I stand,
with no food to eat but sand,
and no tool to work but hand,
tell me, my my lady, will I stay long on this land?

And how so bad does it hurt!
That I am living without a hut.
And everything I touch feels hot.
Tell me, my lady, won't I get a cut?

Of all things in the world, your love is the peak.
It is the language that I speak.
It is my...